


Rewind

by vegalocity



Series: Oblivion [2]
Category: LEGO Monkie Kid
Genre: Darkfic, Hypnosis, Less ambiguous than the first one, M/M, Mind Control, Mixtape, The clones seem to have little to no affection for Xiaotians loved ones, and i'm going to capitalize on that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:00:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29664882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vegalocity/pseuds/vegalocity
Summary: See, he wasn't the same person as the Clone who came before him. He still existed for one purpose and he'd do whatever he could to keep that up, but he wasn't as manic as the original Porty Clone, he was made from the memory of clones going haywire, not the desire to fulfil a task.He could wait, he could plan.He could invest time in doing other things to ensure his future revelry.And 'other things' just happened to crash through the dance hall doors screaming about how long it took to track him down to this 'loud disgusting congregation of the city's most debauched'
Relationships: Qi Xiaotian | MK/Red Son
Series: Oblivion [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2179788
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	Rewind

**Author's Note:**

> I hope the ending scene makes you guys feel as gross while reading it as it was for me to write it :D

Classic Him had summoned a bunch of clones for fighting purposes, and while the majority of them were actually starting to fall in line as his control over his abilities got better, he'd somehow been brought back too. Maybe he was the doubt at the back of Classic Xiaotian's mind that this would work, the memory of those first clones going haywire and going rogue, which was why he had the memories of that first Porty Clone, but technically was a different clone entirely. 

But he wasn't overly interested in the question of how real he was and how much of his personality and goals were steeped in the memory of a clone long poofed. What mattered was that he'd slipped past notice, and he was pretty sure Classic Xiaotian had lost count of the clones anyway and assumed they were all there. Leaving him to his freedom the second he managed to get off of the battlefield.

And then came his actual purpose—or rather, the purpose of the clone he was steeped in the memories of to the point where he might as well be the same clone—To Porty eternally.

His first thought had been to make his way to the Antigrav Arcade he and Xiaojiao would so often haunt, but that was no good, after his predecessor went crazy he was pretty sure he was banned from there.

Thankfully it was not the only establishment in this city that was a titular Porty, and it wasn't even the only one with an Antigravity gimmick, so it didn't take long for him to set something up at a dance club with an antigrav mat and become their new DJ after... well the less that could be said about the old DJ the better.

As his new Manager was running him through the ins and outs of the place he'd looked shifty eyed and lead him over to the stack of records by the DJ podium.

“See, one of the owner's Ex Boyfriend's is a demon, and every so often him, his buddies, or just some rando who heard about the drama will come in and try to ruin the night and cause a mess.” He flipped through the records until he pulled out one that seemed to be covered in dust. “Any of those guys cause some trouble, just put this bad boy on and blast it. Cost this club an arm, a leg, and half the liquor in the bar, but it latches onto demons and... well... Just tell 'em to hit the road and they'll turn around and leave when they get an earful of this.” he let him take out the record and turn it over. The A Side had some ancient-ass looking text on it, like ANCIENT ancient, like 'get that to Tang to get a translation before it unleashes an eldritch monstrosity' ancient.

The B side said 'Will not work without permission' and that was it.

“A Side's stronger, but it looses effect eventually if the demon shows up too much, they build an immunity or something.” The Manager shrugged and pulled out a titanum bat “Which is why we've got THIS up here too.”

“B Side's what it says on the tin, it sticks for good, but it's too damn weak to do anything without permission.”

So he'd slid the record back into the jacket and put it back with its kin and didn't think anything more of it while they continued their briefing.

And for about a week it was pretty okay. He felt less manic than his predecessor, he was okay with the club being open only during dusk to dawn, and he was allowed to crash on the breakroom couch in the daytime. He felt... more real than his predecessor did. He existed to porty and that was in the end all he cared about, but he wasn't made out of a desire to fulfill a task; he was made from a memory. So maybe he was wired differently than the Porty Clone that came before.

But what did he care about the philosophy of what makes someone real? He had a set to plan out.

* * *

He'd honestly forgotten about the dusty record in the pile until he'd heard the telltale crash of someone forcing the front doors open, and saw a very distinctive plume of red hair. Red Son had been coming in hot, no eyes for anything but the DJ Table. And he knew he wasn't physically stable as a clone, too much damage and he'd puff into a gold shower and the hair Classic Xiaotian made him from. And if he poofed then they wouldn't have a DJ, the porty would end.

And the porty was not allowed to end. 

Just as Red Son began to screech about a fight and how long it had taken to track him down to this 'loud disgusting congregation of the city's most debauched' he'd remembered the record. So he kept his cool, shot Red Son a smirk, and slapped that bad boy right onto the turntable, ancient eldritch script side up.

The needle hit the record and he killed the other song he had on while cranking the turntable's playback up as high as it would go.

The bass shook the podium, and he was pretty sure the sheer force of sound was blowing his hair about like no one's business, some of the nearby porty goers flinched and clapped hands over their own ears in pain at the assault, and he made a mental note to buy those people some drinks for the inconvenience—another thing he had improved from his predecessor, he was able to look beyond what he personally considered awesome and actually remember that it takes more than one person to porty—before hopping down from the DJ table and approaching Red Son.

He'd frozen in place the second the music started blasting; the flame he'd summoned in his hand dying and his raised arm dropping to his side. Those normally firey scarlet eyes dull and unfocused as he seemed to be forcibly zoning out. 

The manager told him that the record would usually be used sparingly, which made sense since it wasn't exactly boppin', the thrumming bass almost entirely overwhelming anything resembling a melody, and not in the 'dance remix of a song' kinda way, but more of a 'For fuck's sake someone turn down the bass line I think I'm going into organ failure' kinda way.

He waved a hand infront of Red Son's face. No reaction. 

His manager did say that if a demon got an earful of this thing that if he told them to just leave that they would. What he did NOT say was that this was some kind of... weird... magical... mind control-y music that seemed to be directly synced up to a demon's brain configuration. 

And you know, his first thought was not to look a gift horse in the mouth and tell Red Son to beat it while he was under the thing's control, to switch the music back to his kickin' tracks and return to the Porty. But that didn't last long when an opportunity presented itself as an idea.

He wondered just how powerful this thing was...it was worth experimenting on, he thought.

So he grabbed Red Son's hand and dragged the demon—barely stumbling along behind him, he was completely zonked out on this thing—to one of the few seats at the edge of the club. 

“Sit down Red Son, relax, enjoy the music.” And just as instructed, Red Son sat in the offered seat, quickly sliding downward as he relaxed into the cushions, head tilting back until he looked almost like he'd fallen asleep. 

Almost. His eyes were still open, yet half lidded, as he began to stare blankly at the lights overhead.

When he returned to the podium he turned down the record, but didn't turn it off, opting instead to layer a proper track over it. 

His crowd might be mad at him for a little bit but if they wanted him to shut off what was keeping a very angry fire demon pacified then they'd be the ones who got to tell him to leave.

So he stuck out until it was approximately the usual time he took a break and let the autofill go for him. The record was still thrumming in the background, rightly throwing off any other rhythm the porty goers seemed to try and maintain, but he wasn't about to chance turning it off and Red Son immediately flying into a rage on him.

Besides, he had some investigating to do.

When he approached the seat Red Son had practically melted into those garnet eyes never strayed from the lights, unfocused and hazy. He blinked slowly, breaths long and deep as though dreaming. He looked kind of like those people who would go up on stage at the magician's behest and get hypnotized. 

And suddenly the mental image of Red Son clucking like a chicken popped into his head and he realized around his laughter he should probably be doing some actual investigating here. After all, if this had the potential he thought it did, then it was imperative he figure out how this magic little record worked on a demon's mind.

Classic Xiaotian had a huge crush on the fire demon, whether he'd admit to it or not, but Red Son had no part in the memory he was made up of, so he had no part in his makeup. He still knew he was hot (heh) of course, but he wouldn't get distracted by it. 

After all, the porty came first. And if this worked out like he was hoping it would, then the porty could be ensured indefinitely. 

But that all hinged on this fancy little magic record being exploitable. He slid his hand into Red Son's slack grip, and his distant hollowed out gaze slid over to him.

“Follow me.” He gave a light tug to Red Son's hand and the demon stirred, slowly sitting up properly, and then rising to his feet. He kept his hand in Red Son's, while maybe he would follow along without directly being led, there was also a chance of what could potentially be his greatest asset getting lost or distracted. He had to be slower than he'd like to, as Red Son's shuffle was more akin to a sleepwalkers than anything that could actually keep pace with him, but by the time they reached the break room he figured he should probably go the 'positive reinforcement' route.

“Good Boy.” Red Son was so clearly out of it he probably wasn't even the slightest bit aware of what was going on around him, yet he watched as a small dreamy smile slid onto his face.

Aw, that's cute. He smiled back and directed him into the break room. He'd have to be fast and grab the record from the DJ Table and make his way back inside and get the music playing again before Red Son came to. 

“Stay here.” He warned and Red Son blinked slowly at him, yet dutifully stayed exactly where he was.

So he grabbed as much stuff as he'd need for his little 'experiment' tonight, just the laptop, the charger, and of course the record itself, and raced back to the break room, nearly running into several people he'd barely managed to dodge. 

Sliding in as unobtrusively as he could he stepped around Red Son—still standing where he'd left him, but his eyes were shut and he was gripping his head as though in pain, he didn't seem to realize he was there—and made sure the record was on the Scary Ancient Lettering side. 

“Wait- where am I? What was I just...” Red Son turned and saw him, immediately he tensed, the fire of aggravation returning to him. “Noodle Boy!? Is this your doing?!” 

He put the needle on the record. There was a pause as it picked up the grooves, during which Red Son was getting himself more and more riled up.

“What have you done?! What was that- that THING you did unto me!? I demand you expl-...”The music began, the echo was different in the break room, but the smaller area meant less noise distortion. Red Son had frozen in place, though he didn't look any less tense. 

“I- uh... I de- I demand...You... explain...-” His voice was growing weaker, trying in vain to keep a grip on his train of thought. His gaze had slid off of him and was now resting somewhere off to the side. “I demand you...” Xiaotian stepped forward and placed a hand on Red Son's shoulder. “I.....uh...”

“Stop fighting it. Let go.” he spoke softly. He knew jack and also shit about stuff like this, but he'd seen a few cartoons that involved mind control episodes. Or rather, Classic Him had. Something for him to look up later if this panned out “'s probably really difficult to fight it, you must be tired. Why not take a break?” Red Son had gone silent, but his twitching brow, and still half present scowl indicated he was struggling against whatever the music was doing to him. “Come on, Red. You know you wanna. You know you liked it. Just sleep for me....” Didn't characters in those cartoons usually incorporate...

He snapped is fingers. “Sleep.”

It seemed like that was all the reinforcement Red Son needed as his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he pitched to the side, head falling onto his shoulder. Thankfully even a clone had enough of that Monkie Kid strength inside him to keep a demon from falling to the ground as his body gave up on him, surrendering to the abyss. 

“That's it Red... Good Boy.” He half carried half dragged the taller demon to the lumpy couch he would often crash on and arranged him in a way he hoped wouldn't kill his neck in the morning.

“Now, we're gonna play a little game, you and me. It's called 'Information'. It'll be loads of fun. See, I'm gonna ask you questions, and you're gonna answer them as best as you possibly can. And every time you answer a question you'll feel soooo good you'll just want to answer another and feel even better. That sounds like fun doesn't it?”

Silence. 

“Red Son, You want to play a game with me, right?”

There was another pause, but then “....Yes.” barely above a whisper, hazy and distant. He wasn't too attached to Red Son, not like how Classic Him was at least, but he was pretty cute like this—all dazed and demure, like a sleepy little kitten.

Classic Him had better appreciate him for this.

“Good boy! Now let's begin, first question!”

* * *

He'd said it before and he'd say it again; Classic Him had BETTER appreciate him for this! 

The amount of time he could be spending portying had been cut down significantly ever since Red Son walked in that second night and he'd convinced him to be a normal guy of his (mental) age for likely the first time in his life. Because while sure, watching Red Son, scourge of the city and self proclaimed nemesis of the Monkie Kid clumsily dancing on the antigrav mat one hundred percent convinced he'd come here with intent to do just that was enjoyable, and he was right about that ancient record being improved on with some stage hypnosis tricks he'd found on the internet while the club was closed...

It was just SO MUCH TIME he had to waste walking Red Son into that mindset in the first place! And even more time afterward sliding all those little thoughts and puzzle pieces into his head during 'hang outs' in the break room! Time he could have spent where he belonged! Up at the DJ booth! 

But it was fine, it was all FINE. 

He was doing this because he was smarter than his predecessor. Because he understood the necessity of having someone real on his side (or, more real) and if he could just keep his patience and keep it up, before too long Red Son would be exactly where he needed him to be when Classic Him finally tracked him down.

He just had to be patient.

* * *

The plan changed about two weeks in. (give or take)

It was normal at first, but by the time he figured it was about time to pull Red Son from his music-induced stupor and he'd gone to find him at 'his' seat he'd found it surprisingly endearing to see him how he was. 

While he was zonked out on the magic music sometimes his body would move unconsciously and leave him in somewhat awkward positions, like his head thrown to the side and his sunglasses dropped somewhere on the ground, or slid so far out of the seat he was maybe one nudge away from abruptly waking himself up by face planting on the filthy floor.

Today, he caught Red Son looking normal at first, but a gleam on the side of his slacked jaw caught his eye, and he couldn't contain his laughter when he recognized it as a thin line of drool. 

Holy mother of all stereotypes that was hilarious. 

So far gone on magic music, brain shut so thoroughly off, that the most needlessly prideful and aggressive demon he'd ever MET, was drooling on himself like a toddler.

Okay, okay. He had to pull himself together. Red Son always seemed to be more aware when he was touching him, and he'd seen him try to react a couple of times to the more peculiar things that had happened while he was out of it. So he'd need to be gentle with this one, lest he snap himself out of it in pure embarrassment.

He took a deep breath, hummed a few bars of some 80's synth pop tune to focus, and schooled himself back into the DJ confidence. He used the sleeve of his fuzzy jacket to clean Red Son up, softening his grin as much as he could to look comforting as Red Son struggled to focus on his face, cheeks dusting pink in embarrassment.

“You know you're really getting better at this.” He'd cupped Red Son's cheek in his hand, thumb brushing the scar. “You were SO intently listening that you vanished entirely into the melody didn't ya? That's impressive, I'm proud of you, Red.” The strain faded instantly, replaced with a dreamy grin. Red tilted his head slightly, attempting to lean into his touch, but unable to put enough energy into it to complete the action.

“....-ou.....” He seemed like he was trying to say something. Usually a rather difficult venture for Red Son while 'in oblivion' as he'd apparently started calling it.

“Red?” He usually saved his energy for answers and commands first of all, second of all if he was starting to act of his own volition again that may mean that he wouldn't be ready by the time Classic Him showed up.

Slowly, clearly taking all of his concentration, Red Son lifted his hand to rest on his own.

His voice was still heavy with the desire for sleep, and his eyes were still glassy and unfocused, but his words became clear.

“....I... love you....” His eyes fluttered, exhausted by the phrase and the action. “I love you.”that time it came out in one breath. And his cheeks had turned pink again, but this time it could only be in delight as a lethargic sleepy grin had lit him up as much as it could (which wasn't much, but he could see Red Son's teeth now) and he let out a thin chorus of delighted giggles, practically drunk on his own confession.

And then it hit him.

He quickly maneuvered Red Son's headphones to be partially off, just enough so that he could hear him and the music at once. “Information.” The trigger word passed through Red Son's ear likely without him ever being aware it was said. But it would compel him to answer. “How long have you had a thing for hi- for me?”

Red Son's voice was hazy with sleep again “months and months.”

“....Obey.” He snapped his fingers... Trigger words were SO helpful he was so lucky they came up during his half-assed research. “You'll remember confessing when the headphones turn off, but you'll think you did it fully awake. Understand?”

“...Yes.”

He'd assumed Red Son would be most valuable as a physical asset, someone to fight Classic Him so he could save his skin and live to porty another day.

But this...

This changed things. 

“We feel the same way, but I can't have a boyfriend, gotta put my time into the Porty, you understand. But hanging out together is just as good, right?” 

“....Yes.”

“...But if you ever find another me, HE won't be as married to the job as I am... I'm sure HE'D love to hear that again! In fact, you should save all those 'I love you's for him! Don't say any more to me.”

* * *

At about a month he was starting to see some real progress in his little project. 

On the second day he'd done an experiment with nail polish—extolling just how beautiful neon as a group of colors was and how happy it would make Red Son to keep a bit of the porty with him even when he was back home as he'd painted his nails for him—and when the third night rolled around and he'd seen Red Son had kept the polish on, he knew that commands would work even after Red Son was fully awake from after a good night's sleep.

So as slowly as he could without wasting time, he'd started ramping it up. Alongside all of the 'training' he'd already been putting in and reinforcing, he'd taken to making Red Son stand infront of the floor length mirror in the dressing room and properly take himself in in the reflection.

A bit on the pushy side yeah, but after spending a couple of sessions taking his hair from the ponytail and insisting that he looked so much more handsome like that, Red Son had showed up with his hair already down; so he'd wondered just how far innocuous stuff like that could go.

And as it turned out, pretty damn far. After enough compliments on the strength he could feel when he'd run his fingers up his arms and insisting that he must want to show off a little, Red Son had started opting to take off his jacket when showing up at the door, revealing his undershirt to be sleeveless and seemed to delight in the second glances partons ended up throwing his way.

Now the jeans, the jeans were the at the time culmination of how far he'd thought he could guide Red Son in one direction, He'd been embarrassed when he'd first brought up words like 'Sexy' and the phrase he really wanted to convince Red Son of: _'If you've got it, flaunt it'._ But he'd ended up being able to break it down gently for Red Son, like he did with all of those hangups he'd find while experimenting with him—and/or making this whole thing worth his time in the moment by playing with him—and sure enough it had stuck in his head, and one day he'd shown up in black skinny jeans so tight the second he removed his coat he was clearly the center of attention. 

Honestly it was starting to get kinda fun to watch how Red Son was slowly bending more and more to his words, slowly convincing himself of things he'd be telling him behind closed doors. 

But the climax of the tension had snuck up on him. When that month or so mark had hit, he'd long since forgotten his manager's warnings, and had to be abruptly reminded of them when he'd been SURE the playback from his laptop to Red Son's headphones was working, yet within minutes of what should have been sending him into a stupor, Red Son had approached him, and with a mild panic in his voice insisted that something was wrong.

He'd assumed as much just by Red Son BEING there, but he still scrambled to put together a playlist for the crowd and snatched the record from its resting place, it hadn't been used since that first night—granted he'd been able to switch the tracks onto his company laptop and was able to synch it up with Red's headphones from there—but he already had a feeling as to what was going to happen.

“Obey, you can remember what happens in here this time.” It was risky, trying a trigger on Red without putting him through the song first, but it seemed to have paid off since he seemed like he hadn't heard him at all, yet didn't get slightly hazy eyed as he usually did when back here. 

Okay, play it cool. He'd need to gauge his reaction to what he already had a feeling about first. 

Red Son was clearly growing to enjoy this whole setup, else he would have stopped coming back, but the sheer nervousness, fear at being dismissed, and overall DESPERATION to return back to 'Blissful Oblivion' took him a little aback.

Well at least that meant he would probably be willing to let him do what he wanted with his head if it got him back to that 'oblivion' he wanted so badly. That meant that today might be the day to start up the next part of the plan.

“Baby calm down.” He tucked a strand of loose hair behind Red Son's pointed ear, watched him turn red at the petname, and pressed his cheek against his palm. Honestly he'd been mostly sparing in the physical affection department as to not confuse Red Son too much when Classic Him showed up, but now at least it meant he was quick to turn to goo in his hands when he did so. 

“I'm so happy that you trust me enough to tell me about stuff like this.” Red Son practically swooned at that, a relived sigh leaving him nearly boneless as he'd directed the demon back to the lumpy couch he'd spend most late nights sprawled across. 

He'd pulled out the record and explained the B side to Red Son, stating specifically that it required 'permission' to work. He remembered his manager's words then, about how the B side sticks in a demon's head indefinitely when allowed access.

“I can probably help you get what you want out of your song again, but you're gonna need to like... let me.”

Red Son jolted, and leaned so far forward in the seat he seemed about to slide to the ground. “Yes! Yes! Do what you want! Do ANYTHING with me! Please! I WANT you to!”

Wow he really was desperate. It was... actually a little uncomfortable. 

...But...means to an end. 

“You want it that bad?” 

He nodded so vigorously some more hair slid infront of his face. 

“Why?”

Asking questions didn't really need the 'information' trigger at that point, Red Son was so conditioned to answer him honestly it may as well be hardwired into his brain. 

if anything the desperate look in his eye got worse “I just-! Everything is so much! Everything moves too fast and it's just so CROWDED in here-” he gripped at his hair to emphasize his point, his voice going higher in mounting distress.

“-and I didn't know that I didn't have to live like that until I started coming here! I didn't know what peace even FELT like until now. I can't go back to that Xiaotian! Please, I NEED it! I need YOU!” He properly slid off the couch in his own wild gesturing, falling on his knees before him. He didn't even pause, like he hadn't noticed. 

“Do anything you want with me, Please... I don't want to think anymore.”

...This was SO uncomfortable. 

Red Son did not look like a secret weapon right now; he looked like an druggie ready to do anything for his next hit.

But he was too in deep in the plan to double back on it now, it would mean he'd wasted all of this time for nothing, and it would be cruel to Red Son to leave his brain so messy and full of needs and desires he'd convinced him of without fulfilling any of them.

Best solution then would probably be to just keep going. Focus on the amount of portying he could do once Red Son was ready, while also giving him that fix he so desperately desired. 

He should probably come up with something for him to be able to do on his own-

“Sit back on the couch, lets get started.” Red Son rushed to obey as he turned to put the side B of the record on.

If this thing was as weak as described he'd really need to hold Red's hand for the whole thing, ease him into it until he hit what he was looking for.

And with that 'permission' stuff out of the way, that might mean tonight was the night.

Sure enough about an hour later he was sorting through the clothing in the closet to find something that would fit the aesthetic of the club while Red Son mindlessly chanted a new trigger over and over to ensure it would stick when he awoke. Only enough energy in him to continue speaking and snapping his fingers after every repetition. 

He had some glow sticks he could probably part with, and ohhh! He didn't even know they still MADE belts like this! Now... the striped arm warmers or the checkered ones...? Oh wow that halter top was PERFECT to pull the whole thing together! Now just one last thing, just so only he'd know when Red Son's brain was out to lunch.... Ah! He was HOPING there would be another pair of shutter shades somewhere in here! And red too! Perfect.

He scribbled up a quick note to place atop the pile of clothes and approached Red Son again, gently placing a hand over his own.

“You can stop now, baby.” He definitely preferred Red Son like this than how he was before. All blissed out and placid would always be eons better than that distressed mania. “Now you can put yourself under whenever you want; Even when you haven't heard Your Song all day! But you won't remember you can do this until you start jonesing in the middle of the day, alright? That's not something you can remember until you start feeling like you need it before you get here. Understand?”

“...Yes.”

Hopefully he'd never see Red Son desperate like that again. 

“Good boy.” He should probably make sure everything was in place. It had been over a MONTH and Classic Him hadn't found him yet. Whenever it was coming, it was coming soon.

“Red, what are you?”

Red Son didn't respond at first, and he was worried his words might not have stuck.

“....I'm a mindless plaything.”

“Good. And what do mindless playthings do?”

“Obey.”

“Good, Good. And who do you belong to?”

“You.”

“To Xiaotian, Not just me. You won't remember this when you wake up, but you're not gonna stay with me forever. You're a gift for another Xiaotian, the one that wears the baggy coat. One more time, who do you belong to?”

“I belong to Xiaotian.”

“Good boy. Now, go to sleep, and when you wake up, you'll know what to do.”

He took one last glance at the table as he left the slumbering demon, the pile of clothes exactly where they would catch Red Son's eye upon waking.

Maybe it would be a little overkill, but what was the use in such a thoughtful gift if one doesn't bother wrapping it up nicely?

He'd better at least a get a thank you card when Classic Him was done thoroughly enjoying his new boytoy.

**Author's Note:**

> Porty's over here like 'I know this is incredibly fucked up and at certain points it DOES make me sincerely uncomfortable... imma still do it tho, imma still do it'


End file.
